And if you want to know more than that I can only refer you to the description of his great-great-great-grandson "Jacob," described in the Chronicles of the Beaminster Family.
The children meanwhile gazed, and for a long time no one said a word.
Then Helen said: "Father WILL be angry." But she did not mean it.

The three were, by the entrance of the dog, instantly united into an offensive and defensive alliance.

They knew well that shortly an attack from the Outside World must be delivered, and without a word spoken or a look exchanged they were agreed to defend both themselves and the dog with all the strength in their power.

They had always wanted a dog; they had been prevented by the stupid and selfish arguments of uncomprehending elders.
Now this dog was here; they would keep him.
"Oh, he's perfectly sweet," suddenly said Helen.
The dog paused for a moment from his ablutions, raised his eyes, and regarded her with a look of cold contempt, then returned to his task.
"Don't be so silly," said Jeremy.

"You know you always hate it when Aunt Amy says things like that about you." "Did Nurse see ?" asked Mary.
"No, she didn't," said Jeremy; "but she'll be up in a minute." "What are you going to do ?" asked Mary her mouth wide open.
"Do?
Keep him, of course," said Jeremy stoutly; at the same time his heart a little failed him as he saw the pool of the water slowly spreading and embracing one cockatoo after another in its ruinous flood.
"We ought to wipe him with a towel," said Jeremy; "if we could get him dry before Nurse comes up she mightn't say so much." But alas, it was too late for any towel; the door opened, and the Jampot entered, humming a hymn, very cheerful and rosy from the kitchen fire and an abundant series of chronicles of human failings and misfortunes.
The hymn ceased abruptly.